Stockholm Syndrome

Deja Vu

Niall's POV

My leg muscles burned as I pressed harder, running as fast as I could. My breath was coming in ragged gasps, and my lungs burned desperately for more oxygen. I couldn't keep this pace up for much longer, but I forced myself onward. I knew that if I slowed my pace at all that I'd be swarmed within minutes. The paparazzi were relentless. I'd hoped that outside of the monkey house we'd be free of them, but I was so wrong. There had been double the number outside just waiting for us, cameras posed, waiting for us so they could catch a glimpse of us. Then their cameras would blind us with their flashes as they took picture after picture for the tabloids. It was insane!

Max was still behind me, I hoped, because I didn't have the keys to his car. If he'd been held up then I was so screwed... I couldn't look back though to check, not while I was sprinting toward the entrance. I silently prayed that he was keeping pace with me and that he would make it through alright. Praying for my kidnapper's safety was something I thought I'd never do. Ever.

"I'm... I'm right behind you, Niall! Just keep going!" I heard a voice from behind me shout. Max. He didn't sound too far off, but still I was far enough ahead of him that I couldn't hear his feet pound against the pavement. I kept running. Pushing myself to go harder and run faster.

I was now past the animal exhibits, making my way towards the main gates, almost reaching the parking lot. I was only a few feet away when I felt a sharp pain in my knee. Immediately my leg gave out and I stumbled, falling onto the rough pavement beneath me.

Mentally I cursed my knee as tears sprung into my eyes, blurring my vision. I tried to whip them away with my pointer finger, realizing that my scraped hands were bleeding lightly from the impact with the concrete, but they kept flowing uncontrollably. I took several shaky breathes, trying to calm my racing heart. It didn't work. I knew that my knee was screwed up, I just didn't know how badly, and that scared me. I'd already had a major knee surgery before, so I knew that whatever had happened wasn't good.

"Niall? Are you okay?" I heard max shout from somewhere behind me, he sounded much closer this time. His concern only made me cry harder with fear that the paparazzi would soon catch us, and that they'd me in such a helpless and embarrassing situation fully equipped with their cameras.

I tried to force myself into a sitting position, but pain shot up right leg as I tried to move my knee even the slightest bit. I bit my trembling lip, trying to rub the tears from my eyes before Max saw. I was too late though, because Max was now kneeling next to me, his hand resting gently on my shoulder in a way that was oddly comforting. I hadn't seen him catch up, but then I had been too busy crying and trying not to panic. Both of which I was miserably failing at.

"Niall are you okay?" He asked me for the second time as he looked me in the eyes. I could see that they were filled with genuine concern. This confused me a little, because I was sure he'd laugh at me for crying. He just looked worried.

I shook my head, not trusting my voice not to crack.

"I saw you make a sharp turn and then I saw you fall, but what happened?" He asked as he continued to look in my eyes, trying to help me calm down.

"My knee... it just gave out?" I stammered as yet another salty tear rolled down my cheek.

"Your right one?"

I nodded again.

He looked over his shoulder, I assume to judge how soon the mob of paparazzi would fall upon us.

"Can you walk?" He asked, his body becoming tense as he quickly glanced behind his shoulder again. We didn't have much time.

"No," I choked out as I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut tight. I didn't want them to see me like this, crying and a mess. I couldn't help it though, because I was terrified. My knee hurt and I couldn't walk. Memories of my knee surgery flashed before my shut eyes and I desperately to push the disturbing images away. My knee cut open on the operating table... doctors poking me with long needles... blood... stiches... it made me sick to think that I had screwed up my knee.